


emergency contact

by jennycaakes



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Best Friends, Car Accidents, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Realization, Smoking, pizza tracker forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: “Hi, this is Doctor Culp from Greater Boston Medical Center. I’m calling on behalf of Adam Birkholtz, as you’re listed as his emergency contact. Mr. Birkholtz has been in an automobile accident and was brought into our facility early this evening. He’s sustained a few major injuries and--”Justin's going to miss his presentation.





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i spent way too long trying to figure out how to summarize this fic. there's cute college scenes, lots of friendship, a little bit of pot, some flirting, a car accident, some angst, mutual love, and happy soft boyfriends with a warm and hopeful ending that takes place in the vague future of the check please universe. i hope that you give it a chance!
> 
> ps - i never went to med school and i know nothing about it! thus this is likely not an accurate representation of med school (as pointed out to me by someone who is actually in med school - my b!!!) hope it's not too much of a hang up!

When Justin glances up at the sound of someone knocking on his door frame, and then _opening his door unannounced_ , he has six different textbooks spread out across his room all open to different pages. He almost snaps at whoever it is that’s on the other side seeing as he made it very clear to his housemates that he was not to be disturbed, but when the door actually opens, it’s Holster.

“Dude!” Justin jumps to his feet at the sight of his best friend, letting the happiness of the surprise block out any sort of stress that is deep inside of his stomach.

Holster grins. “Some chick at the front door let me in.”

“Who, Perry?” Justin asks, but Holster half-shrugs-half-nods, unsure. For a moment Justin’s stomach twists uneasily - there was a time when he and Holster knew everyone in each other’s lives. But since Justin stepped out of the consulting business and into medical school, moving across the city to be closer to campus, they barely see each other anymore. Holster’s only made it out to Justin’s new place a couple of times and not all of his roommates have been in every time. “Whatever, doesn’t matter. Come here!”

Holster laughs, stepping into Justin’s room and shutting the door behind him with a click.

“I brought snacks,” Holster murmurs as they wrap themselves up in one another.

Justin knew leaving Holster behind to pursue his medical degree was going to suck. He just didn’t realize it would suck _so much_. It’s why he followed him to Boston in the first place, rearranging his personal goals just so they could stay together longer. They’re still in the same city, still close enough that they see each other, but it’s different.

Justin misses him.

“I’ve got this presentation on Monday,” Justin says as he pulls back, his hands heavy on Holster’s shoulder. While he’s all for surprise visits from his best bro, this weekend is a work weekend entirely. “Man, I--”

“I know,” Holster says, looking a little confused. “Obviously. Which is why I brought snacks.” Justin laughs as Holster pulls his backpack off so he can dig through it. “You need brain food, Rans. And encouragement. Hence me behind here.”

Justin shakes his head. “I’m going to be shit company, Holtz.”

“Your company is never shit company.” He digs in, grabbing a granola bar, and tosses it in Justin’s direction. “I’m ready to be educated on medicine.”

Justin laughs again, feeling something inside of him loosen at Holster’s presence. “My presentation isn’t on _medicine_ ,” he says.

“Well, whatever it is.” Holster crosses the room, perching on the edge of Justin’s bed. “Surgery techniques. Penicillin. I have no idea what class this is for. Who cares. And--if you’re not in presentation stages yet I brought my laptop and some headphones so I can watch hella 30 Rock while you work.”

Justin drags his hand over his face, shaking his head again. “What the hell did I do to deserve you, Holtzy?”

“Shut up,” Holster tosses back. He digs into his backpack some more anyway. “I also brought candles, because at first I thought you were studying for a test? And I swear I read that good smelling stuff helps you study?”

“Scent helps you recall,” Justin tells him with a smile, knowing what he means. “Like--if you chew gum when you study, you should chew the same gum for the test and it supposedly helps you do better.”

Holster holds up a cupcake flavored candle with a frown. “Okay, so way off base. But this one smells like Bitty’s baking! So it’s still good!”

“Still good,” Justin agrees with a grin.

The tension that had solidified in Justin’s stomach at the thought of this presentation, which is going to make or break his grade, dissolves the longer he’s with Holster. Justin wants to give up all of the work that he’s done and just lay in his bed by Holster’s side, the two of them reliving their Samwell days with the blunt that he brought (a gift from Shitty and Lardo), but Holster knows how to make sure Justin gets work done.

They light the candle and it does indeed smell like Bitty’s just downstairs baking, and every once in a while Holster will laugh quietly at something on 30 Rock, and Justin feels a little bit like he’s back in the Haus.

He misses the Haus.

His new room is bigger than the attic that he and Holster shared, and his bed is twice as large, so there are definitely some benefits to his new place. His housemates are all great, too. But they’re not the team, and sometimes Justin misses the ghosts and the dirty couch and the creaking pipes that used to give him comfort.

Still, Justin finds his groove. He works well into the evening, Holster nearly asleep on his bed, before he remembers they need more than just snacks to sustain themselves.

“I’m going to see if we have food,” Justin says as he stands. “Need to stretch my legs. Maybe we can order pizza if we don’t have anything?”

“‘Swawesome,” Holster agrees sleepily.

Justin makes his way downstairs and finds Perry and Patrick on the couch. Pat’s hands are gently working their way through Perry’s hair and Justin watches them, just for a moment, happy that they’ve found each other in the chaos that is med school. Justin hasn’t had time himself to date, but maybe once this semester settles down he can figure his life out.

“Hey,” Justin finally calls. Both of them turn away from the TV to face him. “Did someone cook?”

“Nah, we got takeout,” Patrick says.

“You and your boy hungry?” Perry asks, lifting an eyebrow. “I think we’ve got some pasta you could cook up.”

“We’re gonna order something,” Justin says with a wave of his hand, “I was just checking.”

“It’s okay that I let him in?” Perry asks slowly. “I know you have that thing but he said it was a surprise. Was it a surprise?”

Justin smiles. “Yeah. It was a surprise. It’s great, Perry. Thanks.”

“Anniversary of something special?” she wonders.

“Nah he’s just helping me hunker down on this presentation.”

She beams. “I like him.”

“Me too,” Justin says. “He’s the best. Text me if you want anything from Dominos.”

The two of them go back to watching TV while Justin returns to the stairs, taking them two at a time to get back to Holster. He’s still sprawled out on Justin’s bed but he’s more awake now, it seems, texting someone with his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

“Holtz?” Justin wonders. Holster looks up at once, eyes wide like he’s been caught doing something wrong. “Who’re you texting?” Justin asks.

Holster flips his phone so the screen is down against his chest. “Lards.”

Which is fine. That’s not suspicious at all. But the flipping of the phone and the look in his eyes is a little suspicious, so Justin arches an eyebrow. “Bout what?”

“Art,” Holster says, which is _clearly_ a lie.

Justin purses his lips, slowly striding closer. “Art,” he echoes.

“Don’t you talk to Lards about art sometimes?” Holster asks. “There’s so much of it out there.”

“Why’re you being weird, Holtz?”

Holster laughs. “I’m not being weird!” He tugs his phone back up and unlocks it, holding it up to his friend so Justin can see his recent messages. There, at the top of the list, is a convo with Lardo. All Justin can glimpse of the conversation is _all i’m saying is we gave you that joint so…_ before the message gets too long and the phone cuts it off. “Why’re _you_ being weird?” he tosses back.

“I’m not,” Justin says. “Why’d they give you the joint?” he asks.

“Get out of here with your good eyes,” Holster huffs, hugging his phone back to his chest. “They gave me the joint so I could… think about art.”

“God, you’re such a bad liar, dude.”

“ _Brooo_ ,” Holster whines, laughing a little. “Doesn’t matter! You can’t smoke it anyway, Mr. Fancy Med School Dude Who Has A Presentation.”

“I _can_ smoke it,” Justin corrects. “I am choosing not to so I can instead be productive. But!” He reaches out, tapping Holster’s phone where he holds it over his chest. “After my first run through we should reward ourselves? Yeah?”

Holster lights up. “Yeah. But we need pizza first.”

They only get Dominos because when they were Frogs, one of the senior’s dad’s owned a few Dominos in the midwest, and they felt a sense of loyalty to the brand. Also Holster loves watching the pizza tracker, and Justin loves watching Holster watch the pizza tracker.

While Holster’s browsing the coupons on the site, Justin pulls out his phone.

 **Ransom  
** whatcha talking to Holtz about?

 **Lardo  
** bruh get out of here and mind your own business!

 **Ransom  
** LAME why are you excluding me

 **Lardo**  
you and holster exclude me from things ALL THE TIME rans   
it’s almost like we all have different relationships w each other

 **Ransom  
** you wound me

 **Lardo  
** why don’t you ask him???

 **Ransom**  
bro you think i didn’t???   
He said ART

 **Lardo**  
LMAO   
what’s wrong with art rans  
do you hate art

 **Ransom**  
I just know you’re not talking about it!!   
ugh

 **Lardo**  
smoke the blunt dude  
xoxoxo

“I always feel weird when I smoke without Lardo or Shitty,” Justin says, setting down his phone. He glances briefly at Holster’s screen to see what he’s ordering, but Holster knows Justin’s favorites so he’s not too worried. “It’s like--they always smoked us up. It was them asking! And now when they’re not here--”

“You feel like a real deviant?” Holster chirps with a grin. “Bad boy Rans.”

“I hate you so much all the time.”

“You love me,” Holster corrects.

Justin ducks his head with a laugh. “Don’t even start,” he says.

“Well we haven’t smoked without them yet,” Holster says, “because we don’t have the pizza, and you’re not done with your slides! So get to work!”

* * *

Friday night ends with Justin’s first final run-through of his presentation, a fuck-ton of pizza, and no pot. They’re both too tired by the time Justin’s finally ready (being an adult is so _boring_ ) so Justin just climbs into bed beside Holster and passes out.

In the morning his bed is empty, lame, which has him hurrying downstairs to make sure Holster hasn’t gotten into any trouble.

He’s drinking coffee with Perry and Simon, another housemate of his. Perry’s laughing loudly at something that Holster must’ve just said because he’s grinning like he’s so proud, and Justin already shakes his head. “Don’t let him talk,” he warns his housemates. Simon smirks into his mug and Holster’s grin just widens. “Everything out of his mouth is lies.”

“So you’re not the human equivalent of a coral reef?” Simon wonders.

Justin groans. “Really Holtz?”

“Aww, Rans,” Holster says warmly. “They’re your housemates. They gotta know!”

“Rans?” Perry wonders.

“Ransom,” Justin says. “From Oluransi. It’s a hockey thing.” He gestures to Holster who is stepping toward him, offering Justin a drink from his mug. “We were on the team together.”

“Oh!” Perry lights up with recognition. He doesn’t super talk about his hockey days with his new people, but enough that it’s familiar for them. “Of course, of course. I didn’t realize that was how you knew Holster but I forgot that you played for your school--so college makes sense.”

Simon tips his head to the side. “Holster’s not your actual name, is it?”

“Adam Birkholtz,” Holster tells him with a grin. “Nice to meet you.”

“Adam!” Perry says brightly. “Now that’s a name.”

After finishing off Holster’s coffee, Justin insists on taking him to this little cafe near campus. “It’s not as good as Jerry’s but it’s the closest I’ve found.”

They spend their morning laughing, catching up over large heapings of pancakes and extra cups of coffee, before heading back to Justin’s place so he can run through his presentation a few more times.

Once he’s sure he’s got it down to a science he actually presents for Holster, who asks questions in all the right places and offers suggestions that vastly improve how it flows. Holster takes notes and makes comments and after a bit of editing, they do it all over again. They eat leftover pizza for lunch (they ordered _so much food_ last night thank you Dominos coupons) and power on a bit more, Holster doing some work of his own in-between presentations.

It’s nearly 6pm by the time Justin feels really good about his work. Holster feels good about it too. Good enough that he suggests, “Blunt?”

“Chyeah,” Justin agrees. “You read my mind!”

They’re able to climb onto the roof and, though it’s not the same as the Haus or the rink, it’s nice. The sun is starting to set and the night air is cool and refreshing and the blunt packs a punch. Justin only really ever smoked with Shitty and Lardo, so he feels hazy almost instantly, and Holster’s smiling at him like he thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

Instead of chirping him for it, Justin asks, “Should we listen to music?”

Holster queues up The Weeknd because apparently he heard good things about the latest ep from Nursey and though it’s about breakups, it’s quiet enough to just be background noise rather than set the whole mood.

“When’s the last time you talked to March?” Holster asks after exhaling a puff of smoke.

Justin snorts. “You _know_ , dude. It was--couple months after graduation, remember?”

“That was the last time?” Holster asks with a frown. “When we ran into her at that bar?”

“You think I’m sneaking around on you?” Justin jokes, and he’s rewarded by one of Holster’s soft smiles. “I don’t have time for all that, Holtz. And if I did it wouldn’t be with March.”

“Mm…” he passes the blunt back. “We forgot water. Let me go get some.”

Justin watches as Holster climbs back into the house and takes another hit. Before he knows it, Holster’s back with a giant glass of ice water for the both of them to share.

“You’re the best,” Justin says, trading him for the drink. He watches as Holster takes a hit of his own, exhaling the smoke slowly. It’s… hot. “What about you?” he asks, shaking his head. He spent years living with Holster and Holster was always hot. A bit of distance doesn’t change that. Just, sometimes it startles Justin. “With dating.”

Holster laughs. “Yeah, no.”

“Why not?” And then, just because, “You’re a catch, babe.”

Holster smiles so widely that Justin’s sure he could count all of his teeth with ease. “Because,” he starts slowly, his smile fading. “I’m… thinking of going back to school?”

Justin sits up in a rush. “Really?”

“Business school,” he says with a nod. “Or--well, I don’t actually know.” Holster shakes his head. “I feel like I’ve got stuff to figure out.”

“Consulting not what you wanted it to be?” Justin asks. He never thought that Holster wanted to go to grad school. They’d talked about it a dozen times. “Or something else?”

“I don’t know. Maybe both. I don’t know.” He takes another hit. “I don’t know.”

“Say I don’t know again.”

“I don’t know.”

Justin smiles. “Love it when you indulge me,” he says. Holster looks back to him, his smile returning. “You could do anything, Holster. You know that, yeah? Literally anything.”

“Maybe not literally anything,” he murmurs.

Justin elbows him and Holster yelps and then they’re both huffing at one another. They trade the blunt and the water cup again. “Anything,” Justin insists. They fall into a comfortable silence, the music still singing quietly in the background. “This is what you were talking to Lards about?” he asks.

Holster’s eyes flicker over to Justin’s before he looks away. “No.”

“No?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well don’t make me guess, dude.”

Holster scrubs at his face with his freehand. “Just more stuff I’ve got to figure out,” he murmurs. “Don’t worry about it, yeah? You’ve got enough going on.”

Justin rolls his eyes, but he supposes that’s true. “Always looking out,” Justin comments.

“You know me,” Holster returns, his smile back. “We can talk after your presentation.”

“Sounds serious, Holtzy.”

Holster doesn’t respond right away, opting for the blunt instead. “Nah. Don’t want you to worry.”

“Kind of in my hardwiring.”

“Mm-hm, I know.”

“Then after my presentation,” Justin says, “I’m hopping in my car and coming to your apartment. And we can talk about grad school. Or not-grad school. Or art.”

“I _love_ art,” Holster comments with a grin, happy that Justin’s letting them move past it. “Don’t you think art is cool? There’s so many kinds. What’s your favorite type of art, Ransy?”

“You’re really good at changing the subject,” Justin says, laughing.

But he leans into it anyway, and then they’re talking about paper mache, and then they’re talking about Shitty and Lardo, and then Jack and Bitty, and then they’re talking about how they’re getting to that age where all of their friends start getting married and having kids, and then--

And then they’re just looking at each other, Spotify having moved onto some other soft music that fits the mood, gazing into one another’s eyes like they’ve never even looked at each other before.

“Your eyes are so blue,” Justin finds himself saying. And--whatever, he’s stoned.

“How blue?” Holster asks.

“Like--the sky. When you’re in an airplane all the way up and the blue just stretches on for forever.”

Holster smiles. “That’s beautiful, Rans.”

“They’re like--water colors.”

“Are you calling me art?” Holster wonders brightly.

“Shuddup.”

“That’s so _cute_ , Rans,” Holster says, and it makes Justin feel all warm inside how he says _Rans_. Soft and sweet and wonderful, like he can’t believe Justin even exists. “That’s what I said about you to Lards.”

If Justin wasn’t stoned, he’d realize that this meant something.

But he is, so he doesn’t catch it, and they climb back into the house before it can get too dark.

* * *

Sunday Justin wakes up with Holster’s arm around his waist.

He’s cozy and happy and he sighs, falling back asleep before he can think about it too much.

The second time he wakes, Holster’s to his own side of the bed, browsing his phone. He’s squinting, like he needs to put his glasses on, but he’s smiling at something. Justin just watches him for a moment. His mouth is dry and he needs something to drink but Holster is effortlessly beautiful, especially in the morning when the birds aren’t even really awake yet.

“Miss this,” Justin murmurs sleepily.

Holster’s eyes dart over to him and a smile takes his face. “Sorry?”

“I miss this,” Justin says again, a touch louder. But softer once more, “You.”

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Holster says. “I miss this too.” Justin throws his arm over his face so Holster doesn’t see his cheeks rise with color. “We’ll have to start scheduling our bro-time, man. I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“Med school’s gonna kill me,” Justin warbles.

“Nah. You’re invincible.” Holster sits up and stretches, and Justin peeks out just in time to watch the muscles in Holster’s back shift. “Need some water?”

“Please,” Justin rasps.

Holster leaves his phone, and for one tempting moment he considers opening Holster’s text thread with Lardo to see what the hell they were talking about that was so secretive. Both Holster and Justin have one of one another’s fingerprints saved, so he could easily get in. But that feels wrong, and what if it’s a surprise? But it doesn’t feel like a surprise, it feels like something serious. And then--if it is, it shouldn’t be ruined via Justin being a brat and going through Holster’s messages like a helicopter parent. Or a worried boyfriend.

Holster’s phone is in the same place he left it when he returns, because Justin’s not a psychopath, and he passes Justin a cup of water.

“Gotta thank Shitty and Lardo for the pot,” Justin says after he re-hydrates from the night.

“I’m headed that way tonight,” Holster tells him. “I’ll make sure to let ‘em know.”

They make breakfast in Justin’s kitchen instead of spending more money on food, and Perry grins like she’s walked in on something secret when she finds them.

“Bitty would kill us if he was here,” Holster laughs at one point, covered in flour. “Can’t even make freaking pancakes.”

“I think he’d be proud of us for trying,” Justin responds.

The pancakes really aren’t good, but they eat a whole bunch anyway, and even Perry makes it through one before calling it quits.

Later, Holster lights the cupcake candle, and they run through Justin’s presentation one last time and he feels _good_ about it. Things feel like they’ve settled into place. Justin feels more grounded than he has in weeks.

When Holster leaves that afternoon, Justin misses him immediately.

* * *

 **Holster**  
Shits is so proud of u turning into a lil stoner!!!!  
told him abt how you didn’t even cough after that big one and he’s SHOOK

 **Ransom**  
Hahahaha shut uppppp  
ugh I should’ve come with you

 **Holster**  
work on your presi bro  
You got this!!!!

 **Ransom**  
hey thank you for everything this weekend, you know?   
I don’t think I said it when you were here

 **Holster  
** that’s what I’m here for dude

 **Ransom**  
no but really Holtz  
thank you

 **Holster  
** absolutely anytime ransy

Justin falls asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

Monday morning, Justin wakes up to an absurd amount of text messages from Holster from around 6 in the morning and one missed call from an unknown number that called closer to 11pm, which left a voicemail.

Normally he’d have his phone on in case of an emergency, but with his presentation so early in the morning he set it on Do Not Disturb and passed out way before 10pm.

He checks the texts first.

 **Holster**  
Rans  
are you awake yet?   
fuck just fucking delete that voicemail  
i’m fine okay??? Don’t even listen to it just delete it  
just delete it  
good luck on your presentation today ok bro??? Ur totally gonna crush it  
Fuck Rans do NOT open the voicemail i’m so serious  
it’s not a big deal just call me once your presentation’s over  
ur gonna be great dude!! and i’ll see you after  
rly i am okay i’m fine i’m good okay okay?   
text me back so i know you know i’m okay

Justin is very confused.

He listens to the voicemail.

“Hi, this is Doctor Culp from Greater Boston Medical Center. I’m calling on behalf of Adam Birkholtz, as you’re listed as his emergency contact. Mr. Birkholtz has been in an automobile accident and was brought into our facility early this evening. He’s sustained a few major injuries and--”

Whatever else Doctor Culp says is drown out over the roaring in Justin’s ears. He scrambles to get his phone back into his hands, flipping back to his texts.

 **Ransom  
** Holtzy??

And then--like someone with a functioning brain--he calls Holster’s number. And it goes straight to voicemail. Which either means his phone is dead or maybe he’s dead? Holster’s not dead, right? The voicemail said major injuries but clearly he was okay enough to text. Is Holster dead? Holster’s not dead. No way is Holster dead. Why did Justin’s brain go straight to dead? Holster is obviously clearly not dead. He was texting!

Justin checks his watch.

He’s going to miss his presentation.


	2. during

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE EXCUSE ALL MEDICAL INACCURACIES AND LACK OF FORMALITIES IN THE HOSPITAL IT'S A FIC AND I'M A BUSY GAL

When Justin makes it to Greater Boston Medical Center, it’s a bitch and a half to find the room that they’ve shunted Holster into. He talks to half a dozen nurses before he ends up on the sixth floor, sprinting down the hallway to get to him.

Holster’s asleep when Justin finally finds him.

There’s a cast on his left wrist and his forehead is wrapped with gauze and his eyebrows are furrowed like he’s in pain. His leg is propped up at a weird angle and there's casting there too and even his chest seems to be bound in something soft. He’s in a hospital gown and there are a million and one wires attached to him and anything that Justin thought he knew about being a doctor shoots out of his brain in an instant. He can’t think.

“Adam,” he croaks.

Holster’s eyes shoot open in a second--not asleep, but also not dead. “Rans,” he rasps. And then, like a fucking asshole, “You’ve got your fucking presentation!”

“Fuck that!” Justin shouts back. “I emailed my professor, it’s fine! I can do it on Wednesday!”

“Ransom--”

“You’re so much more important than some stupid presentation, Holster!” Justin doesn’t even know where to being. “You got in a fucking car accident?!”

Holster sinks down into the bed and his eyes grow distant, foggy. “It wasn’t my fault,” he whispers.

Justin hurries across the room to him and reaches for Holster’s good hand. It’s still early for the hospital staff and it sounds like the wing they’re in is only just starting to wake up. There’s soft chatter down the hall and quiet beeps coming from somewhere but the room they’re in is so stale and quiet that Justin can feel it in every breath.

He tugs a chair closer to the side of Holster’s bed and grips his hand so tightly he’s worried he might break it. “Tell me what happened,” Justin murmurs. At first, Justin thinks that Holster’s annoyed he has to talk about it, but when Holster’s eyes unexpectedly well with tears and he looks the other direction, Justin’s heart shatters. “ _Holtzy_.”

“I was on my way back from Shit’s,” he rasps. “Listening to that podcast you told me about a few weeks ago?”

“Which one?”

“That hockey one, where they mentioned Jack.”

“Too distracting?” Justin asks, suddenly feeling that this is somehow his fault. “Or too boring? Or--”

“No, no, it was great. Kept me awake,” he manages, but that feeling of dread that Justin had a part in this lingers. “Fucking--drunk driver out of _nowhere_ , Rans.” Holster’s looking up at the ceiling and blinking back tears when he says, “It was barely 10:30. My car flipped so many times.”

“Holtz!”

“They told me I’m lucky to be alive?” he says, voice hitched like it’s a question, like he can’t believe it or he doesn’t want to. He still isn’t looking at Justin and his eyes are still watering and now Justin feels his own eyes watering and God what the fuck? What the fuck!

Justin scans Holster’s injuries but he can’t tell much. He hesitates. “Can you walk?” he asks.

Holster sniffs loudly, nodding firmly. He seems a few steps behind which makes Justin think he’s on some pain meds. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I’m really okay, Rans, I meant it when--”

“The voicemail said _major injuries_ ,” Justin snaps, surprised at how angry he sounds. Why had Holster told him to just delete the message? Did he really think that Justin would’ve chosen a presentation over him? “What happened?”

Holster lifts his cast. “Broken wrist,” he says. “Broken femur. Fuck ton of broken ribs.”

Justin brushes his thumb over Holster’s slowly. “Concussion?”

“You know it.” Holster sniffs again. “Nothing I can’t handle. We played hockey, remember? I didn’t even lose any teeth, the airbag saved my pretty face.”

“Don’t joke around right now, Holster, I’m not even fucking kidding.”

“I mostly just lost a lot of blood,” he carries on. “They patched me up though, it’s fine.”

“You lost a lot of blood?”

“Mr. Birkholtz is lucky our EMTs arrived when they did,” a woman says, tugging Justin’s attention briefly away from his friend so he can look at her. She’s short but has a commanding presence and Justin is immediately reminded of Lardo. “Found him unconscious in a pool of his own blood from his break. The surgery went smoothly though. I’m here to check your vitals, Adam.”

“Hey doc,” Holster greets weakly.

Justin whips back to look at Holster. “You had surgery?!”

No wonder those texts came so long after the voicemail had been left for him. He had to go through a fucking surgery and come-to enough to think of Justin’s fucking presentation.

“For his femur. It’s a rough break.” Holster exhales a deep breath. “This must be Mr. Oluransi,” the doctor says, and her name tag reads _Culp_ like the voicemail that was left for him. “I’m glad that you were able to make it in. Adam was convinced you wouldn’t come.”

“He _shouldn’t_ have,” Holster mutters.

“Fuck you,” Justin snaps, which is not the right thing to say, but there are so many emotions lodged inside of him that he’s not processing this correctly. “Who knows?”

“Who--? No one, Rans,” Holster manages.

Doctor Culp goes about checking Holster’s vitals, making notes on her clipboard as she does so. “Jesus Christ, Holtz,” Justin murmurs.

He digs his phone out and pulls up the group text.

 **Ransom  
** holtz got in an accident last night - i’m at GBMC with him now. everything seems ok and he’s awake but it wasn’t great

“You don’t need to tell them,” Holster says as Justin moves to stand.

“Too late,” he comments, moving toward the door. “I’m calling your mom.”

“ _Rans_.”

He steps into the hallway to give Holster and Doctor Culp their privacy but Justin’s body is buzzing with anxious energy. He drums his fingers against his side while the phone rings and feels the vibration of texts from the group message coming through in response.

He speaks to Holster’s mom briefly, insists that he’ll have Holster call home when he can, and swears to give updates as they have them.

“I’ll see if we can come up,” Mrs. Birkholtz says over the phone, sounding worried. “But with you there at least I know he’s in good hands.”

They say their goodbyes and Justin paces as he reads the messages flooding in.

 **Shitty**  
BRAH I KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG WHEN HE DIDNT TEXT ME THAT HE GOT HOME FUCK  
HOLSTER ALWAYS TEXTS WHEN HE’S HOME

 **Bitty**  
Oh my goodness what happened??!?  
How bad is it??

 **Shitty  
** I KNEW I SHOULDVE FOLLOWED UP IT WAS NAGGING AT ME

 **Lardo  
** omw now deal with it

 **Shitty  
** ME TOO

 **Jack**  
You’re there with him Ransom?  
How’s he seem? How bad is it?

Justin peeks into Holster’s room and finds Holster with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while Doctor Culp speaks with him quietly.

 **Ransom  
** I’ll let you know when I know

 **Bitty**  
Let him know we’re all thinking of him!!  
Please keep us updated!

Justin lingers in the doorway until the doctor notices him, and then he enters slowly. “Do you wanna tell him?” she asks Holster, who is still pinching the bridge of his nose.

Holster exhales. “I need to go back under,” he says, not looking in Justin’s direction.

“What--under the knife?” Justin asks, and Doctor Culp nods. “Why? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“We knew this was likely,” Doctor Culp says softly. “Adam’s surgery last night was a life-saving one, meant to stabilize his break. Which it did. But there’s some work that still has to be done. There's a possibility of a clot.”

“No--fuck.” Justin lifts his hand to his forehead, trying to remember everything he can about fucking femur breaks. They can be fatal if they’re not treated right for the exact reason the doctor mentioned. “Fuck.”

“Rans,” Holster starts.

“I fucking hate this,” Justin returns, crossing the room back to Holster’s side. “I hate this. It’s barely 8 AM. Do you know how much I hate this?”

Holster manages a weak smile. “Yeah. Imagine me.”

Justin grabs his hand again. “Fuck, Holtz.” He lowers himself to the chair and then drops his forehead down to Holster’s hand. “Shitty and Lardo are on their way.”

“ _Ughhh_ ,” Holster groans, and it’s the most he’s sounded like himself all morning. “Nooo.”

Justin lets out a deep breath before looking back up. “When?” he demands. “Is the next surgery.”

“Now,” she comments.

He looks to Holster. “Call your mom first,” he instructs. "I'll take care of the rest." Holster’s eyes meet his, finally, for the first time all morning, and Justin feels a calm wash over him. Blue, like the sky. He grips Holster’s hand a little tighter. “I’m serious. I can handle Shitty and Lardo. Call your work--let them know what's happened. I’ll go by your place and get--you need new glasses, probably?”

“Lost mine,” Holster whispers with a nod.

“So I’ll get your spare pair. And I know you hate them, Holtz, but c’mon can you even see me?”

Holster gives him a crooked smile. “Near-sighted,” he reminds him. “Course I can see you.”

“So glasses,” Justin says, still holding his gaze. “Sweats. You don’t have plants you need me to water, right?”

Holster’s smile grows a little. “Yeah, Rans, I’ve got dozens of ‘em. Just lining the windowsills now. Didn’t you know?”

“Fuck you, Holtz,” Justin says with a laugh. “Glasses, sweats. Phone charger? My message didn’t go through this morning.”

“Yeah,” he exhales. “Phone died. Laptop? I’ll need to--”

“No work,” Justin cuts him off. Didn't he already say he'd handle that? “God, I hate you sometimes.”

“No, you love me,” Holster corrects.

“So much,” Justin answers without hesitation, but his voice shakes. Justin isn’t sure how long they’re just looking at each other before Doctor Culp clears her throat. “I’ve got your spare key,” Justin murmurs, shaking his head as he returns to himself. Justin stands slowly. “How long?” he asks, turning to the doctor.

“If it goes smoothly, just a few hours.”

Justin nods. “Okay.” He looks back to Holster. “Okay.”

“Rans,” he starts softly.

“Don’t say shit,” Justin says, starting backwards toward the door. Holster’s face fills with something that Justin can’t quite place. “You’re going to be fine. Okay? And I’m going to be there every step of the way no matter how long the PT is. You’ll walk and play hockey and make it through this. Eh?”

Holster nods, but that look is still on his face. Fear? “Uh-huh.”

Justin hesitates before darting back across the room to Holster. The angle is awkward but he manages a hug anyway, careful not to be too tight seeing as he hasn’t any idea of the full extent of Holster’s injuries. “You can’t leave me,” Justin rasps.

Holster holds him tightly. “Never,” he returns. “Never, never.”

Justin’s eyes swell up with tears again. “You should’ve told me,” he croaks.

“Yeah,” Holster whispers back, and Justin finally understands that look on his face as regret. “I know.”

* * *

It’s actually a good thing that Shitty and Lardo show up when they do because Justin is in _no_ state to be driving. He waits until Holster’s put back under and then he’s fucking twitchy, trying to remember all of the specifics that Doctor Culp had said, all of the possibilities, all of the outcomes. He feels like he needs to pull up an Excel sheet to sort out every injury that Holster has, the recovery time of each, the likelihood of permanent damage here or there.

“Jesus, Ransom,” Lardo says, spotting him first, and throws herself at him. Shitty’s there in a heartbeat and they’ve both wound themselves around him at once. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he lies.

“Bullshit,” Shitty says. “Where’s Holtz? What room is he?”

“They had to take him in again.”

“For… what?” Lardo asks, pulling away with her eyebrows furrowed. “For surgery? Jesus, Rans, how bad is he?! You said he was fine!”

“I don’t know,” Justin admits, and that’s the scary part. He really doesn’t know.

Justin thrives on knowing things. Holster used to tease him, tell him that he loved the gossip, but it wasn’t even that. Justin just operates better when he knows all side to a story. In the Haus, that might’ve been gossip, but he was co-captain then and knowing the drama of the team helped him on the court and operate as a leader. It’s why he studies the way he does, prepares for presentations, freaks out when he can’t figure out a puzzle. Justin likes to know things. He _needs_ to know things. In particular, this thing, about Holster and his possible outcomes.

“I need to get his glasses,” Justin says.

Shitty’s face flickers with confusion for a second. “Holster’s?”

“They lost his,” Justin tells them. “Which is fine, because it was implied that Holster was literally on the street dying when they found him, so--”

“Fuck,” Shitty mutters, marching away. “Fuck!”

“Can you drive? I can’t drive. I feel like--”

“I’ll drive,” Lardo says with a nod. “Have you had any coffee today yet Rans? Water? Food? You need something in your body.”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I want to be back here by noon.”

“So we’ll swing by Holster’s place,” Shitty says, guiding Justin out the door. “And then through a drive-through of sorts, which will provide us with nutrition that we need so we can come back and be the support that Holtz needs. Yeah?”

Justin jerks his head into a nod. “Yeah.”

* * *

The ride is mostly silent.

Justin spends it paging through his last messages with Holster, re-reading the things they said to one another the night before, or the days before in which Justin was worrying about his presentation, or the weeks before when Justin was worrying about med school in general, or the months before when--

Holster’s just always there for him. Literally always.

And of course the one time that he needs Justin--

“C’mon,” Lardo says, throwing the car into park. “You know his apartment better than we do.”

“And I’ve got the key,” Justin murmurs, mostly to himself.

Justin may know Holster’s apartment better than Shitty or Lardo, but that doesn’t mean he knows it super well. Since the move back to med school they tend to just go to Shitty’s, which is a pretty good halfway point between everyone’s homes. Justin’s spent his time here, sure, but less so than they must think.

The place is cleaner than Justin expects it to be, but he doesn’t linger. He heads straight for Holster’s room, finding his bed unmade but also not slept in. He pulls an old duffel out of Holster's closet and finds his spare glasses in his underwear drawer because that's where he keeps them and the moment he gets Holster's bag packed, he feels something inside of him pull taut.

Justin perches on the edge of Holster’s bed and draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around himself, and cries. He isn’t sure how long he’s there until Shitty and Lardo are beside him, their arms thrown around Justin so tightly it’s like they think they can absorb some of what he’s feeling.

But they _can’t_.

He just cries harder. The thought of losing Holster is too much, too hard, too impossible to even fathom.

“This is my fault,” Justin croaks.

“Dude, what?” Lardo asks. “How?”

Isn’t it obvious? The feeling has been weighing on him this entire time.

“I left him!” He feels Lardo and Shitty both still, and he knows they’re giving each other a look, but he can’t remove himself from the cocoon that he’s created for himself. “If I hadn’t gone to med school,” Justin rambles on. “If I’d stayed with Holtz instead--we’d still--he wouldn’t have had to get that new apartment that was so far away--and maybe instead of driving so far that night--”

“Rans,” Shitty cuts him off gently. “This isn’t your fault, brah. If it’s anyone’s it’s _mine_. It was getting late, and I’d told him he should just stay but--”

“Oh, Christ,” Lardo stops him. “The only person whose fault this is, is the fucking drunk asshole who hit him! Holster would throw a fucking conniption to hear you two blaming yourselves! Especially you, Rans, Jesus.”

Justin slowly pulls up so he can look at his friends. “He almost didn’t tell me,” he tells them. “I got a fucking call from the hospital. He texted me but all he said was to delete the voicemail and that he was fine and--” Justin manages a wet laugh. “He didn’t want me to know.”

Shitty and Lardo exchange another glance.

“I don’t think it was that, man,” Shitty says slowly. “You said you had that presentation today--yeah?” Justin jerks his head into what must be a nod. “Okay. He wanted you to wait until that was over.”

“That’s bullshit,” Justin mutters.

“It is,” Lardo agrees. “But Holtz always puts you over himself, Rans. He always has. And he must’ve thought that was more important.”

Justin shakes his head because that _can’t_ be true. That Holster thought Justin’s presentation was more important than an accident that nearly killed him. “It’s not,” he manages.

“I know,” Lardo agrees. “But you know how Holster gets sometimes.”

Justin wants to cry some more, so he does. He can’t let Holster see him cry so he has to do it now, before he gets back to the hospital. The three of them lay on Holster’s unmade bed for a long time, all of them letting out tears at some point, before they actually gather all of the things they needed to get. While Shitty digs through the fridge to see if there’s anything that needs to be thrown out, and while Lardo straightens up his mess of a kitchen table, Justin makes Holster’s bed.

Holster’s never been one for a lot of decoration, but on his side table is a photo of the two of them from senior year.

That’s where Lardo finds him, clutching the photo, sitting on the edge of Holster’s bed again. She’s quiet as she sits next to him.

“Did you two talk this weekend?” she asks.

“Not really,” he admits. “We were going to talk…” he trails off, his eyes filling with tears. “Fuck. After my presentation today.” Justin nearly throws the photo back into Holster’s side table.

“Do you know about what?” Lardo presses.

“Grad school,” Justin answers angrily.

Lardo sighs so hard that something inside of Justin tightens. “That idiot,” she mutters under her breath. “Ransom,” she says. “I know you love Holster. Okay? Everyone knows it. And I know you’re really freaking out. But he’s going to be okay.”

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he says.

“It shouldn’t have,” Lardo agrees. “But it did. And it sucks. But you’ve got to stay strong for him.” She looks toward the newly made bed. “D’ya need to cry some more, or should we go back to the hospital?”

“We should go back,” Justin says, but his eyes burn.

* * *

Holster’s out of surgery by the time they arrive, but he’s asleep. Jack and Bitty are in Holster’s room when they get there and there’s a vase of flowers and a small pie that Bitty must’ve gotten together and everyone moves out of the way so Justin can have the closest seat after hugs are traded.

“They said it went really well,” Bitty says with a smile. “He’s expected to make a full recovery, Rans. Lotta of physical therapy, but he’s good!”

“The doctor said he’s a tough one,” Jack comments.

That should be comforting, but it’s not. He wants to see Holster’s eyes. He wants to hear Holster’s voice.

“How long until he wakes up?” he asks.

“Could take a few hours for the meds to wear off,” Bitty says. “That’s what the doc said.”

Justin nods, taking Holster’s hand. Bitty and Jack talk a little bit more about the surgery, having gotten specifics that Justin couldn’t handle from Doctor Culp, and Shitty and Lardo ply them with questions as though they know what happened. At one point Jack goes into the hall to make a call about the legal side of everything that’s happened, including what’s going to happen to the guy who was in the other car, but Justin can’t move. He can’t move and he doesn’t want to, not until Holster’s awake.

His eyes flutter open a few minutes after everyone heads to the hospital cafeteria to get some food.

Holster twists his hand, dazed, and laces this fingers together. “Rans?” he rasps.

He’s on his feet at once, his hand that’s not holding Holster’s lifting to cup Holster’s cheek. “It went so well, Holtz,” Justin whispers at once. “You did it. You’re so good and so strong, yeah?”

Holster blinks a few times. “I’m okay?”

“Expected to make a full recovery,” Justin tells him.

“Then why’re you crying?” Holster croaks. Justin blinks hard, surprised at his tears. “I’m gonna be fine?”

“Yeah,” Justin says. “Yeah. I don’t--I’m just a fucking mess,” he sniffles.

Holster leans into Justin’s palm. “Think I’m floating, Rans,” he murmurs. “They got me on the good stuff?”

“Sure hope so,” Justin says with a little laugh. “You certainly deserve it.”

“Mm-hm.” His eyes flutter shut again but Holster’s smiling, and Justin finally lets out the breath that he’s been holding in all fucking day. “You missed your presentation,” Holster slurs.

“That’s the least of my worries, asshole.” Justin brushes his thumb along Holster’s jaw. “Did you think I couldn’t handle this?” he asks. “Did you really think that stupid presentation was more important than you?”

Holster’s eyes snap open again and he tugs his face out of Justin’s reach. “Course not, Ransy,” he says as Justin’s hand returns to his side. The other is still laced with Holster’s. “I knew you’d bail on it and I didn’t want you to.”

“Holtz--”

“Man you put your future on hold to follow me into consulting bullshit? God! You never needed to--you gotta reach your dreams, Justin! It’s--”

“It’s pointless if you’re not there with me,” he stops him. “Fuck, Holtz, don’t you know that?”

Holster’s eyes are wide and wet.

“We can’t do this now,” he whispers, sounding afraid. “I can’t--my mouth isn’t right. I need this to be right.”

Justin doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he nods. “Everyone’s here,” he adds. “Should be back any minute. Just ran to the cafeteria.”

Holster’s eyes ease shut again. “Not a candle. I knew I smelled Bitty’s baking,” he hums happily.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to eat it yet,” Justin tells him softly.

“Smells good enough to wait.”

* * *

If Holster’s body wasn’t super fragile, they probably would’ve dog-piled him when they return from the cafeteria. Instead there's a lot of shouting, jumping on top of one another as a substitute. He’s awake for a little bit, happy and drowsy as everyone talks over one another.

“--’ve texted you, brah, I knew something wasn’t right--”

“--can’t believe that Ransom’s listed as your emergency contact--”

“--already had one baking in the oven so I just wrapped it up the second it was done and--”

“--talking to some people about a possible lawsuit, and--”

“Maybe we should let Adam rest,” Doctor Culp says, entering the room while everyone happily chatters around Holster’s hospital bed. “He just underwent multiple surgeries. He needs his sleep.”

“Doc, _noooo_ ,” Holster whines. “This is my family!”

“Just don’t get him too excited then,” she says with a wink.

He’s still holding Justin’s hand.

Eventually, Holster falls back asleep. Justin doesn’t move. Neither does anyone else.

 **Perry**  
Where’ve you been all day?  
You okay?  
Patrick said you missed your presentation?!  
Coral reef okay??

 **Justin**  
shit  
sorry Perry  
Holtz got into an accident

 **Perry**  
WHAT  
IS HE OKAY

 **Justin  
** I’m with him at the hospital he’ll be alright

 **Perry  
** C’MON OLURANSI GIVE ME DETAILS

“Whatcha smiling about?” Holster asks, his words still a little slurred, and Justin startles because he hadn’t realized he was awake.

“Perry texted.”

“I like that girl,” Holster says. “She’s a sweetheart.”

“Who the hell is Perry?” Shitty asks with a frown.

“One of my housemates,” Justin says. “She’s the one who let Holster in when he came this weekend. Lemme call her.” He squeezes Holster’s hand, who squeezes back, before excusing himself to the hallway to let her know what’s going on. He should’ve told his roommates sooner, especially because he has class with a couple of them, but Perry answers on the first ring. “Hey,” he greets.

“Is Adam okay?” she asks. “What kind of accident? Hockey? You guys don’t do that anymore, right? Or does he? Who’s the professional?”

“He’s expected to make a full recovery,” Justin tells her. “Car accident. We still play hockey, but not as often. And Jack Zimmermann’s the famous one.”

“Right! God, Justin, you must be so worried about him.”

Justin peeks into the hospital room, finding that Bitty has taken Justin’s seat and everyone is laughing quietly about something, and he smiles. “A little. I mean--he’s got a lot of PT that he’s gotta do, but he got really lucky.”

“He’s so lucky to have you,” Perry rushes on.

“It’s mutual.”

“God, I don’t even know what I’d do if something happened to Patrick.” Weird analogy, but okay. “Is there anything I can do for you? Boyfriend gets into a freaking car accident after a weekend together…”

“Perry,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Boyfriend?”

“Is… Adam not your boyfriend?”

Justin wheels back around to look into the hospital room again, and Holster’s looking up at him. Soft blue eyes, softer smile.

 _Just some stuff I need to figure out_. _I need this to be right. We can talk after your presentation._

“Perry,” he says again. “I have to go.”

“Justin oh my God, I’m so sorry, I just--”

“No, no, no hey it’s fine! It’s--” Justin laughs. “Just, I’m probably staying with him tonight wherever that ends up. So I’ll text you okay?”

“Love you, Justin! Tell Adam I’m happy he’s alive!”

“Will do.” Before he can enter the room again, Doctor Culp is there and Justin snags her. “Hey,” he says. “How long is Holtz gonna have to stay here?”

“We want to keep him overnight,” she says. “Monitor his femur, mostly, but there’s some internal swelling that we want to keep an eye on.” Justin nods, sighs. He wishes he could take Holster home tonight. Luckily his apartment is on the first floor so they won’t need to worry about stairs. “A femur break can take over months to properly heal,” she tells him slowly. “Are you ready for that?”

Justin frowns. “Of course I am.” Hasn’t he shown that this morning? That he’s here, that he’s in this, that he’s not letting Holster do this alone? “Three months, six months. Doesn’t matter.”

Doctor Culp smiles at him. “I’m glad you showed up, Justin.”

They walk back into the hospital room together and Bitty hops up at once, freeing up Justin’s chair again, which he takes with a grateful smile. Holster wiggles his fingers and Justin laughs, reaching up to hold his hand again.

“Bits and I gotta head out,” Jack says, slinging his arm over Bitty’s shoulder, who curls into Jack’s side with a soft smile of his own. “We’ve got dinner with the parents.”

“Whose?” Lardo asks.

“Both?” Bitty says, like he’s not sure, but Jack beams at him. “Big get together.”

“Get the hell outta here,” Holster says, waving his cast at them. “Really! I’m fine, dudes. Go get ready and have a great time.” Jack presses a kiss to the crown of Bitty’s head before they both give Holster light hugs goodbye, demanding updates from Justin as he has them.

“I’ll get you in contact with that lawyer,” Jack says as he leaves.

“I’m _right here_ brah,” Shitty says, making Holster laugh.

Once Jack and Bitty leave, Holster asks Shitty to talk more about law school, probably because he doesn’t want to talk about the accident but doesn’t want the room to be quiet. And Shitty, the man that he is, rambles on and on about attorneys and assholes (one in the same, often), and he and Lardo play off of each other with the jokes until Shitty’s phone rings, making him leave the room to answer it.

Then it’s just Justin and Lardo and Holster, Doctor Culp having left after checking Holster’s vitals, and it’s quiet.

“So Holtz tells us you’re a pothead now,” Lardo says, causing Justin to snort.

“I am _not_ ,” he says.

“He told me you lit the blunt _and_ finished it off, dude.”

Justin huffs. “Let me _live_!”

The three of them laugh before Shitty ducks his head back into the room, muttering something about having to leave, and Lardo hops up to follow him out. They both say goodbye with more hugs before leaving, and like Jack and Bitty they order updates as they come.

The second they’re gone, the easy smile on Holster’s face disappears, replaced with something tight.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Justin says quickly, standing, and Holster shakes his head.

“No--I’m just--in a lot of fucking pain,” Holster exhales. “Meds wearing off. I didn’t want to rush them but it’s good they left.”

“Should I get the doctor?”

“Not yet.” Holster sits in bed like he’s analyzing the pain that’s in his body, his eyebrows furrowed as he studies his injuries. “This fucking sucks,” he mutters. He tugs his good hand from Justin’s and reaches up to scrub at his face. “I’m so tired, Rans.”

“Get some sleep,” Justin says softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Holster shakes his head, lowering his hand so he can look at him. “You should go too,” he says. “I’m not gonna die if I stay in the hospital alone overnight.”

“Not really a risk I’m gonna take, Holtz.” Holster sighs. He really does look tired, and he has every right to be. Multiple surgeries after a brutal car accident takes a lot out of a person. “I packed extra stuff of yours when I went to your place so I have stuff to wear too,” Justin tells him. “You’re not getting rid of me.”

“You have class tomorrow,” Holster says in a small voice.

“I’m not going. Get some sleep.”

Holster doesn’t look angry or annoyed or even frustrated that Justin doesn’t seem to care about school in the slightest. He mostly just looks sad.

“Rans before they bump my meds again,” Holster starts. “I--”

Justin reaches for Holster’s hand again. “So when Perry called earlier,” Justin hurries, stopping Holster from saying whatever it is he’s going to say, “she’s glad you’re alive, by the way.”

He needs to do this now.

“Me too,” Holster says with a sigh, resigning himself to this conversations.

“Me three. She was going on and on about how worried I must be for my boyfriend, and…” the second he says it, Holster tenses. Justin grips his hand a little tighter. “And I said ‘boyfriend?’”

“Rans--”

“And she went, ‘is Adam not your boyfriend?’ and--”

“ _Ransom_ \--”

“--it made me pause, but…” Justin trails off, shrugging a little. “She’s kinda right.”

Holster sinks down in his bed. It’s not the first time people have mistaken them for boyfriends, but it has been a while. And in the context of everything that happened last weekend, that’s happening now, the fact that Holster’s not laughing like he normally does when they talk about people mistaking them as a couple--that makes it different.

“What’d you tell her?” Holster finally manages.

“That I had to go. Because I wanted to be back at your side. But I didn’t tell her that last part, just that I had to go.” Holster shakes his head a little, the beginnings of a smile there. “Maybe you _are_ my boyfriend,” he says as casually as he can, but Justin can feel his heart beating in the base of his throat. “But I can’t be yours. I’m so bad at it.”

Holster exhales a laugh, looking confused. “Elaborate, dude.”

“You show up for me when I need you most literally _always_ , Holtz.” He gestures vaguely with the hand that isn’t holding Holster’s. “I mean, even just this weekend, man! You came and brought snacks and pot and _you_ and--”

“So I’m a great boyfriend,” Holster says, a smile really finding his face now. “Glad that we’ve established that. What makes you a bad one, exactly?”

“Because it’s in everything that you do,” Justin says, feeling calmer now that Holtz is smiling at him. “How much you care about me. And I’m not--”

“Same as you,” Holster stops him.

“No, but--”

“There’s no _but_ ,” Holster says. “Rans, I _know_ how much you care about me. That’s why I…” he trails off. He takes a deep breath. “That’s why this is so hard.” Justin isn’t sure what he means. “Man I--c’mon Rans, I _love_ you. I don’t wanna lose what we have because it’s fucking special.”

“Dude, never!”

“But if I tell you that I’ve been talking to Lardo and Shitty for _weeks_ about how to tell you how I really feel and that’s why they gave me that fucking blunt because I mentioned sometimes smoking makes me feel _brave_ then it might--”

“ _Never_ ,” Justin says again. Their separate conversations have finally shifted into one. “I want to be with you too.”

Holster swallows. “Ransom…”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” he clarifies. “I mean I feel like I already _am_ but Holtz,” he rambles on, managing a nervous laugh, “but--”

“Shut up,” Holster says, eyes wide. “Get up here!” He tugs Justin toward him with both hands, the feel of the cast rough against Justin’s cheek as he stands and leans in all at once for a kiss. Justin sighs, hates the angle, readjusts, opens his mouth to Holster’s, lifts his own hand to carefully frame his cheek, kisses him gently, gently, gently. “Hurts so good,” Holster rasps between them. Justin laughs, attempting to pull back, but Holster holds him. “I almost died, dude, we’re doing this.”

They’re both smiling into the next kiss and it’s so good and feels so right that Justin feels his eyes prick with tears.

“Holtz,” he murmurs. “I feel…”

Like he can breathe again. Like everything is going to be okay.

Holster reaches up with his good hand, brushing under Justin’s eye. “Yeah, I know.”

Before Justin can lean in and kiss him again the sound in the room shifts and Justin stands, turning to find Doctor Culp in the doorway. She’s arching a curious eyebrow at them but she’s smiling. Justin reaches up and wipes at his eyes and Holster chuckles.

“Sorry doc,” Holster says. “I know you said no physical activity. But I’m running out of pain meds, you know? And I need _something_ that’s going to make me feel better.”

“You don’t need to make up a reason to kiss you boyfriend, Adam,” Doctor Culp says warmly. “Let's get you a new IV.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note: jack is making lawyer calls because Connections and shitty isn't barred yet idk it just worked in my head when i was writing it


	3. after

**Shitty  
** P SURE I DEMANDED REGULAR UPDATES

 **Ransom  
** Jack and bits are at dinner i didnt wanna flood them

 **Bitty  
** Oh, please.

 **Lardo  
** how’s our guy?

 **Holster  
** rans gave me my phone!!! Holla

 **Shitty**  
Lmfao   
He lives!!!!!!

 **Jack  
** What’s the verdict?

 **Ransom**  
he’s actually already dead  
just a ghost  
we need to quickly move his body into the Haus so he can haunt SMH forever

 **Holster  
** Nooooo those ghosts aren’t real dude

 **Bitty  
** Boys!

 **Ransom**  
we’re leaving in the morning  
will get more deets then  
will type it all up in google docs and share the link with you

 **Jack  
** Thanks Rans

 **Holster  
** isn’t ransom the best boyfriend ever

 **Ransom  
** no you are holtzy

 **Holster  
** it’s definitely you babe

 **Lardo  
** oh hell YES

 **Bitty  
**!!!!!! What !!!! is !!!! Happening !!!!!!

 **Shitty  
** WAIT HELL YEAH BRAH

 **Jack**  
Nice  
Bits I think they’re dating now  
Lardo said it might happen remember?

 **Ransom  
** shhhh we gotta let him rest guys!

 **Bitty  
** My goodness!!!

 **Lardo  
** woOOOOO!!!!!

* * *

As much as Holster _insists_ that there’s enough room for the both of them on the small hospital bed that he’s confined to, Justin doesn’t climb in beside him. They’re both big dudes. As much as he wants to, it’s just not happening. Holster’s in too much random body pain and Justin’s not taking the risk.

After the pain meds kick in and Holster falls back asleep, Justin climbs onto the nearby couch and passes out too.

In the morning he wakes before Holster does. He texts an update to Holster’s parents and to all of their friends and then darts to the cafeteria to get them something to eat. When he returns, Holster’s awake, and Doctor Culp is there too. The three of them go over the extent of Holster’s injuries, schedule some follow-up appointments and get a prescription for a fuck-ton of meds, and then they wheel Holster to Justin’s car.

“We’re going to your place,” Justin says once Holster’s buckled. He grips the door handle a little tighter than he normally would, but Justin doesn’t say anything. “Because if we go to mine you’ll have to take stairs, which you can’t, so we’re going to yours.”

“You really don’t need to stay with me,” Holster murmurs as they drive. “I’m an adult, Rans. I can figure out how to--”

“Please stop talking.” Holster huffs but his mouth curls up in a smile. “Let me take care of you for once,” Justin murmurs. “Okay?”

Holster leans against the door and angles his body so he can better look at him. “I can’t believe you think you’re a bad boyfriend,” he says, and Justin can’t help the laugh that jumps out of him. “You’re like, the best boyfriend, Ransy.”

“Shuddup, Holtz.”  

“I can’t believe we had to wait until my entire body was broken to make out.”

“Untrue, we made out at that kegster once.”

Holster laughs. “You’re right, you’re right.” He glances out the window. “Amendment. I can’t believe we had to wait until my entire body was broken to make out _well_.”

“It was soooo bad,” Justin says with a laugh of his own, remembering their drunken make out in the Haus all those years ago. They’d just lost a game and no one had been looking to hook up with them and it was mostly sloppy and sad. “Imagine if we had let that moment ruin us.”

“Eugh.”

They chirp each other about how bad that kiss was for a while as Justin drives, but when a car unexpectedly switches lanes a little too quickly, Holster freaks.

The intake of his breath is sharp and the way he slinks down in his seat is heartbreaking and all Justin has to do is ease on the break and everything is fine but Holster is shaking and gripping the door handle like it’s going save him from something that isn’t even happening.

Justin reaches out, thankful that Holster’s left knee isn’t under that giant cast for his femur. “Hey,” he says gently. Holster lets out a soft breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “We’re fine, Holtzy.”

“Yeah,” he exhales, sharp.

Justin finds himself talking the rest of the ride to fill the silence, keep Holster's mind distracted.

Holster isn’t great at maneuvering with his crutches yet and he really can’t be expected to be. Justin helps him most of the way to the apartment, and as soon as he expects Holster to get frustrated, he doesn’t. Instead he leans more into Justin’s hold and smiles gratefully before he deposits Holster on his couch.

“What’re you craving?” Justin asks, already starting to put Holster’s place back in order.

“Pardon?”

“Food wise,” Justin mutters, noticing Holster’s arched eyebrow. Holster smirks. “So I can order you something to eat, babe.”

“Babe,” he echoes with a grin. “God, I love that.”

“You were not this relaxed in the car,” Justin points out. 

“It was a car, dude. And the ride was longer than I thought and then the pain meds kicked in early.”

He frowns. “When did you take pain meds.”

“Approximately however long ago it takes for them to kick in, I guess.” Holster leans back on the couch, still grinning. “I can’t believe you think you don’t take care of me.”

Justin’s frown eases away. “This again?”

“Remember that time junior year I got the flu?”

“I was acting in self-preservation,” Justin says, returning to straightening up. “I didn’t want to get sick.”

“You tucked me in every night, Rans.” Justin’s face feels hot but he smiles at the memory, knowing that Holster’s right. “Or sophomore year when I left my calculator in the room and you ran it across campus for me?”

“These are very specific examples.”

“You always know where my glasses are,” Holster says warmly. Finally, he turns back to face him. “Or remind me to take my contacts out. And you call me after every proposal meeting to see how it went. And sometimes when I forget to eat and don’t have anything at home you order food sent to my apartment. And when I showed up at your place on Friday night you were less worried about your presentation than you were about being bad company.”

Justin shakes his head a little, smiling. “I was pretty damn worried about the presentation,” he admits.

Holster’s smile is lazy, his eyelids heavy. “Present it for me, dude,” he says. “You’ve got to do it tomorrow. Right? I wanna make sure you still know it.”

“I still know it,” Justin says with a laugh.

“Then show me.”

* * *

They spend the day running through Justin’s slides, laughing at dumb shit Holster thinks about half-stoned on the pain meds, and eating their way through snacks. At one point Holster falls asleep against Justin’s shoulder and Justin sighs, threading his fingers through Holster’s hair and thanking all forms of the universe to be able to have a moment like this.

When Holster wakes he’s hungry and in a lot of pain so they order food, he takes more meds, and they play video games until it’s time for bed.

There’s a learning curve to see how much Holster can handle. Standing for a long time is out, so peeing isn’t great, and Justin’s already thinking about all of the garbage bags they’re going to waste to keep his casts covered in the shower, but it’ll be okay. Holster’s a quick thinker and pretty innovative, and as grumpy as Justin knows he’s going to be a couple weeks in when he just wants to _bend his goddamn leg already_ , he’ll make it there okay.

Holster perches on the edge of his bed after the struggle that is changing clothes, looking at Justin who stands a few feet away.

“I’m never going to be able to wear underwear,” he says. “I’m going to be ass naked all goddamn day for however many months. And then what, Rans? Suddenly my leg’s fine and I have to wear underwear again?” Holster scoffs. “No thanks. Already dreading it.”

He’s wearing sweats now, because his apartment is freezing, but he’ll probably be expected to wear something other than sweats at _some_ point in this journey that is recovery.

“You still wear underwear?” Justin teases, and Holster smirks. He crosses the room to him, taller than Holster when he’s sitting. “I ditched boxers years ago.”

“Prove it,” Holster murmurs.

Justin leans in to kiss him and, yeah, it’s just as good as last night. He cups Holster’s cheek carefully and hums in surprise when he feels Holster’s cast against his back along with his warm hand, pulling him closer. They only stay like that for a little bit before Holster’s whining, nipping at Justin and begging to be in bed.

That night, injuries be damned, they make out like it’s the end of the world. Justin’s dizzy from the taste of Holster’s tongue, the way he finds a way to twist his body in just the right way to make Justin feel like he’s falling and gasping for air. Each kiss is better than the last because they have to work for it, slow and tender. Holster sucks marks anywhere he can reach comfortably and Justin groans out, “ _Adam_ ,” like it’s a prayer or a promise or maybe both.

And later, when Holster grips the sheets as Justin tugs him to release, gasping out Justin’s name too like he’s unreal and full of wonder, Justin knows that he’s going to think about it for the rest of his life. They nuzzle up to one another, careful hands avoiding injuries, whispers of apologies between them when they slip up, incessantly kissing like there’s nothing to stop them from doing this forever.

But Holster really is injured, _really_ injured, and Justin sees it on his face when he can’t keep it up anymore. He eases the kisses into something soft before pulling back. In the end they find a way to wind themselves around one another, bones feeling warm and loose.

Holster nuzzles up to Justin’s temple. “I can’t believe I can have this,” he whispers, sounding drowsy, and Justin briefly wonders if it’s the pain meds talking.

But even if it is the pain meds, it’s still Holster, and he sounds so happy and so in disbelief that Justin can’t help the smile that finds his face. “Me neither,” he admits.

“The best boyfriend,” Holster adds.

“You are,” Justin agrees.

“No, _you_.”

They stay in that space for a moment, a cloud of peace keeping them safe from the shadows that are just outside. But then, suddenly and seriously, Justin’s stomach turns. “Jesus, Holtz,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut to stop himself from crying. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Don’t want to,” he murmurs, sleepier still, and almost sad. “So fucking scared, Ransy.”

Justin turns more toward him, his hand brushing up and over Holster’s skin. “I can’t even imagine,” he chokes. He doesn’t _want_ to. The thought of Holster all alone, bleeding out in the middle of the street? Who called an ambulance? What had he been thinking as the car tumbled? His voice is even lower as he says, “Never want to lose you.”

He can’t picture a world without Holster. He refuses to.

Holster’s fingers curl where they rest against Justin’s side. “Love you.”

Justin exhales, because thankfully that’s not a world he has to live in. Holster’s here, beside him, warm and steadily breathing. A little broken, but not beyond repair.

“Love you,” he whispers back, and has never meant it more.

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Justin presents a 36-slide presentation on the case study he was given flawlessly. His professor pulls him aside after and tells him how impressed she is with him, seeing as his reason for missing his original presentation.

It’s weird to have to provide evidence of Holster’s accident to get an actual excusal from the class, but even his professor winces as she views the documentation. In the end, he only loses a couple of points, and it’s just because he tapped the _next slide_ button a touch too early a few times.

 **Holster  
** howd it go???

 **Shitty  
** cmon we know our boy aced it!!!

 **Lardo  
** apparently holtz made rans practice even after they got home from the hospital

 **Holster**  
YOU BET YOUR ASS I DID  
BROKEN BUT NOT DEFEATED DUDES

 **Bitty  
** Rans? Anything??

 **Ransom  
** sorry, here  
went hella wella ****  
A+++++++ for realz

 **Jack  
** Nice!

 **Holster  
** BROOOOOOO

 **Shitty  
** HELL YEA BRAH

 **Ransom**  
!!!!!!!!!!  
she told me to skip class friday and not worry about it  
fuckin awesome when teachers have empathy ya know

 **Shitty  
** Chyeah man!

 **Lardo  
** how ya gonna spend your day instead?

 **Holster**  
i have some ideas  
make sure you bring the candle

 **Bitty**  
Ah!  
Not in the group chat!!

 **Shitty  
** YES IN THE GROUP CHAT

 **Ransom  
** be home soooooon holtz

 **Holster  
** yessssssss i miss you

 **Lardo  
** Awww

 **Ransom  
** miss you more

 **Jack  
** This is so sweet.

 **Ransom  
** miss you all!

 **Shitty  
** YEAAAAA I LOVE YOU GUYS

 **Bitty  
** I love y’all so dang much!

 **Holster  
** <3 <3 <3 <3

The commute from Holster’s to school is longer than Justin wishes it was but he thinks he’ll be able to make it work. There’s a station a few minutes from Holster’s place with a direct route and he doesn’t get headaches from reading in moving vehicles, so he’ll just have to restructure his time a bit.

This is what he’s thinking about when he keys into Holster’s apartment that evening after a long day. He finds Holster on the couch, asleep, and many things in the apartment knocked down from what Justin can only assume is an attempt to get around on his own.

“Holtz,” he calls out, not wanting to startle him. Holster blinks awake at once, but when he spots Justin he smiles so brightly that Justin feels it in his toes. There’s no resentment or fear or anger, just joy. “How was your day?” he asks.

“They’re gonna let me work from home while I recover,” Holster says as he blinks himself awake. He fumbles for his glasses and drags his good hand through his hair, sending it all spiked to the right. “And I get a month before I even gotta start that.”

“Hell yeah.”

“So I napped in victory.”

Justin grins. He slings his bag down by the door and kicks off his shoes. “I swung by the house,” he says as Holster sits up. “Grabbed some stuff if I’m going to be staying here awhile.” He hesitates. This is where he expects Holster to get tense again. “Am I going to be staying here awhile?”

“I mean, you already brought the stuff,” Holster says, gesturing to his bag. It’s a simple way to say _yes_ , _please, of course,_ and Justin holds it in his heart. Holtz smiles and says, “Might as well.”

“‘Swawesome. So I grabbed some stuff and thought we could order some Dominos even though we _just_ had Dominos because doesn’t Dominos sound great?”

“Dominos sounds so fucking good right now.”

“Cool. And I brought the candle,” Justin says, pulling the cupcake scented candle that Holster had brought him just days ago. “So you can light it while you watch Great British Bake Off tomorrow while I attend a lecture.”

“That’s the best idea ever.”

“And I talked to my roommates,” Justin finishes, finally settling down on the couch beside Holster. He leans forward to set the candle on the coffee table and then turns, grabbing Holster’s hand. “And despite it all they’re really happy for us.”

Holster laughs, so loud that it fills the space of his apartment like a light’s been turned on. “Did you talk with them about… staying here long term?” Holster wonders after a beat.

“If you really want me here,” Justin says as casually as he can, “they said it’s no problem to let me out of the lease. Perry’s insistent I not get caught in any hang-ups. I’ve only been there a few months after all, eh?”

Holster smiles, ducking his head a little. “I like that Perry,” he comments.

“She’s pretty cool,” Justin agrees.

“So how much stuff did you bring?” Holster asks, leaning past him to see his bag. “How long until you leave me again other than that lecture?”

Justin’s been waiting for an opportunity so he leans in, kissing Holster softly, careful not to bump his newly exposed forehead, having taken the bandage off while Justin was away. “Until you go stir crazy,” he murmurs.

It takes him a moment but soon Holster’s grinning. “I think I could last a pretty long time, Ransy. Remember that blizzard where we all got stuck in the Haus?”

Justin leans in again. “How many days was that again? Four?”

“Five, I think.”

Another kiss. “Should we aim for six days then? If we open the windows and blinds enough it’ll basically feel like we’re outside.”

Holtz shakes his head but he’s smiling. “You’ll go back to class Monday, I know.” Justin’s eyes drop to watch Holster lick his lips. “I’ll fill my time with Arrested Development and Bitty sporadically checking in with more food.”

“We’re gonna eat so well for a few months, babe.”

“God bless Eric Bittle.”

“For reals.”

“But Rans,” Holster says softly, pulling back just a touch so they can look one another in the eyes. “This really sucks. It does. I’m not--” he exhales a laugh. “This _sucks_. I’m going to be a pain in the ass who’s in a fuckton of pain and sooner or later we’re going to fight and it’s going to suck more but--fuck, it sucks _so good_ because it’s _you_ , you know?”

Justin has to kiss him again. “We’ll get through this, Holtzy,” he promises. “No matter how tough it gets. I’ve got your back.”

Holster looks down, smiling. “I know.” He looks up again, eyes meeting Justin’s. “And I’ve got yours.”

Justin knows this happened fast. Just days ago the biggest concern in his life was his grade in a class that isn’t even super important to his degree. And even then he hadn’t thought of being with Holster so openly and so sure. There had been moments he felt something but he hadn’t _known_ , not like he does now.

But looking into Holster’s eyes, that blue gaze soft behind his glasses, hopeful and in awe and ready to brave whatever’s next, Justin’s absolutely positive that they’re going to be okay.

They kiss another time before Justin settles in by Holster’s side, pulling up his laptop so the can find the best deals on the Dominos website together. They prop up the computer to watch the pizza tracker and turn on some new Netflix series on the TV and Justin traces his fingers over Holster’s fingertips, hoping it helps him feel something beneath his cast. They talk about Justin’s presentation and the notes he needs to review before class tomorrow and then the food gets there and they feast on cheesy bread and pepperoni pizza.

It’s an event getting Holster into the shower but he _really_ needs it, and an hour and a half later he’s kind of cranky but smelling much better. When they climb into bed his hair is still wet and Justin brushes his fingers through it, hoping it stands on its ends tomorrow morning.  

“Adam,” Justin murmurs, testing how it feels in his mouth. Holster peels back so he can look up at his boyfriend. He just took more pain meds to help him sleep but his eyes are still clear. “Should I call you that?” Justin asks. “Since we’re dating, and all.”

Holster pops his shoulder into a shrug. “If you want. Kinda like it.”

“You gonna call me Justin?” he asks, voice dropping.

Holster smirks. “If you want,” he says again.

Justin thinks for a moment of all of the overwhelming love that erupts inside of him when Holster says Justin’s given name unexpectedly. Between kisses, half-asleep, before reaching his release. The surprise of it is what catches him off-guard, is what makes him cherish it.

He shrugs, too. “Up to you.”

“Let’s just see how things go,” Holster says sleepily, nuzzling closer again. “Justin Oluransi,” he exhales, letting himself start to drift.

Justin turns, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Adam Birkholtz,” he returns warmly.

“Into it. Love you, Ransy.”

“So much, Holtz.”

Holster hums, smiling, and is asleep and snoring before Justin knows it.

Yeah.

They’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking of a follow-up story from holster's POV where he's healing and stuff. yes? no? thoughts? hope you liked it! thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> trying to figure out how these assholes text is gonna be the death of me, i swear to god
> 
> find me on twitter @wholesomeholsom & chat with me abt check please!


End file.
